


Aphelion

by hellsscapes



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, i meant for this to be idw but its Vague enough to be anything honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsscapes/pseuds/hellsscapes
Summary: Aphelion (n): The point in in the orbit of a body at which it is furthest from the sun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whats up my names Trashcan Boy and my hobbies are writing bad smut and projecting onto starscream

There were days that Starscream hated Megatron (more, now, than there used to be), when the contrast between who their leader yearned to be and who he _was_ came into sharp focus. At times, he’d look at Megatron and see little more than a wraith, a shadow held together by the things he’d once dreamt. And if Megatron was a shell, what did that make _him_?

It didn’t bear thinking about. 

There were days that Starscream almost loved Megatron; when their leader’s plans neared fruition. Then Megatron would be almost giddy, and the promises he made to Starscream were fit for kings: all the worlds that you desire, he’d say, will be given to you. A gift, for faithful service. 

These gifts never materialized, and Starscream had stopped expecting them long ago. 

\---

Really, it was to be expected that Megatron woke from what was supposed to be a permanent coma. He had a habit, after all, of foiling all of Starscream’s dearest plans. 

It was almost a relief when that hulking frame appeared at his door: at least the tension of waiting for his inevitable resurrection had passed. Now, all that remained was to endure the punishment, regroup, and begin to plan anew. But, Primus, he was _tired_ of all this. One had to wonder how long this cycle could last before one of them really, truly killed the other. 

Starscream’s helm lolled when Megatron pinned him against the wall. He surveyed his leader with glazed optics, skimming across the frame that he knew as intimately as his own, if not more so. 

“You’re _better_ than this,” Megatron growled, and something inside Starscream seemed to fracture ever so slightly. Better than what, exactly? Than apathy? Than failure?

When he made no reply, Megatron ex-vented and pulled Starscream to his chest in a gesture that might be mistaken for an embrace if not for the tension in Megatron’s frame, or the way his servos pressed dents into Starscream’s thin plating. 

A feeling rose in Starscream’s chest, battering against his spark casing, but he was hard-pressed to identify it. 

Then, in a sudden motion, Megatron hefted Starscream up so that his back was braced against the wall. One large hand supported his thighs, and the other reached up to wrap around his neck, almost tenderly. 

“How much are you going to cost me, Starscream? How long must I suffer your incompetence?” 

Starscreams vocalizer clicked, reset. He didn’t have an answer, even if he could have forced one out through his constricted intake. He hated his silence.

The heat of Megatron’s frame pressed flush with his was making it hard to think. Against the wall behind him, his wings trembled. 

Beneath its panel, his valve clenched and began to drip lubricants. He hated that, too. 

When Megatron’s spike pressed against his panels, he slid them aside without complaint. He could claim that it was because there wasn’t any use in fighting, but he knew himself better than that. In a twisted sort of way, he looked forward to this. Wasn’t it what he deserved for failing so many times that he had long ago lost track?

And, he thought as Megatron’s spike slid into him, his leader must get something out of it as well. Something beyond the obvious, at least: Megatron could frag anyone on this ship, willing or not, so the fact that he always chose Starscream had to mean something. (Didn’t it?)

His vocalizer whined as Megatron pressed down harder, fritzing into static. Distantly, Starscream hoped that he wouldn’t damage it beyond repair. That was always embarrassing to deal with, after. 

At the same time, Megatron began to move in earnest. Starscream’s valve _burned_ at the intrusion, whatever lubricants he had produced not enough to accommodate the large spike. 

Despite the painful stretch, or perhaps because of it, an electric jolt shot up Starscream’s spinal strut. He arched against Megatron, but his movement was hindered by the hand still pinned around his neck. 

The realization that he was trapped utterly by a mech who had nothing but ill intentions towards him should have terrified Starscream. And it did, a bit, but not half as much as it aroused him. A staticked moan spilled from his intake, glitched by his probably-damaged vocalizer. 

Starscream’s neglected spike rubbed insistently against the inside of its panel, but he fought the instinct to release it. At best, he’d be ignored. At worst… Starscream didn’t really want to think about that. 

Instead, he lost himself to sensation. The fingers around his neck felt like the most natural thing in the world. If the relationship between them had existed before it felt like this, he couldn’t remember it. He didn’t know that he wanted to. 

Their history spooled out between them in the near-silence: the way Starscream would run, longing to be caught; the way Megatron would push him away, only to draw him near again. It was a complicated game, one each of them outwardly pretended they weren’t playing. 

But there was no denying it here, in this moment. Starscream’s optics sparked, charge crawling across his plating. Megatron’s labored ventilations suggested that he was close, and the increasingly arrhythmic pace of his thrusts implied the same. 

Megatron’s field battered against Starscream as he overloaded, dragging the seeker over as well. For a moment, they were frozen. Then Megatron slid his spike out, loosening his grip on Starscream at the same time. 

Starscream fell unceremoniously to the floor, his neck throbbing. Fluids dripped from his exposed valve, and from the seams of his still-closed spike panel. Dazed, he leaned back against the wall. 

Megatron closed his panels and turned to leave, but his movement was arrested by quiet static as Starscream tried to speak. 

Starscream had to reset his vocalizer several time, but eventually he managed to say: “You “suffer my incompetence” because you don’t remember how to live without it.”

Megatron didn’t reply.

Starscream took that as victory, however small.


End file.
